I saw a post on Pinterest last night that said “I wish heaven had visiting hours.” It struck me but then I fell asleep and forgot all about it. Until I was at the cemetery today. I laid out a blanket and thought I’d do a little reading while keeping company at my son’s gravesite. And then I remembered the saying about visiting hours in heaven.
I let my mind wander, wondering what it would be like to go visit my son Chad in heaven. What would I bring him? Maybe some of those beaded bracelets he liked to wear. Oh, and some Del Taco for sure. And he liked those junky gorditas from Taco Bell. And a roast beef sandwich with french fries from his favorite neighborhood Italian place. And also some new drumsticks for him to use to play the drums in heaven. (Chad was an accomplished drummer.)
And then I thought. “What? Why would I be doing this? He’s going to have amazing food in heaven, and plenty of drumsticks." As a matter of fact, I’m certain he told me once in my imagination (after I was reeling from an EMDR therapy session about his death) that I should see the drums in heaven. That the drums in heaven are SO cool.
If heaven had visiting hours, Chad would be showing me around, giving me the tour. And I would love it! And then I figured out why heaven doesn’t have visiting hours. Because I wouldn’t want to leave. It would be way too hard to leave. Which of course makes sense, because everything I’ve read about near-death-experiences explains that very thing. The people that come back don’t want to come back - and something is definitely different for most of them when they do come back: they have a purpose.
They come back with one big fat mission on their lives.
I know this even though I haven’t visited anyone in heaven. I don’t know why I know it. Call it faith maybe. But I know I'm not in heaven because it’s not my time. And while I’m here, there’s something big I’m supposed to be doing - even it there are days when my small moments of trying don’t feel very big. I’m supposed to be helping other people get to heaven, or at least, help them get some hope, get some grace, maybe even get some God.
Yep yep that’s why heaven doesn’t have visiting hours. But wouldn’t it be cool? Or is just my mother’s heart?
I won’t know this side of heaven.
Until then, I’ve got work to do.
(originally posted on July 13, 2021)
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Rita,
That is a Beautiful thought!
I know I wouldn't go home either. I would be able to have another conversation with family members. I can hear my Dasan saying; come on Grandma, there's several people that want to see you. Then we'll go see the gardens and then we'll go to a performance. Wait till you see and hear it. I'm doing a solo. Dasan was a accomplish violinist.
So, I know I wouldn't come back at all!
bless you Rita for your work, it means so much...
I love this!